Moth and Moon

Chives

“I think it’s high time you both leave,” San Lang said venomously. Xie Lian didn’t want to be rude and so he didn’t say anything, but inwardly he agreed.

“I’ll leave,” Fu Yao hissed, “But you’re coming with me for questioning.” Xie Lian saw him reach for shackles hanging on his belt, and panic pierced his heart. The metal collar around his neck suddenly felt like it was strangling him. The thought of shackles, on his San Lang-

San Lang snorted and laughed coldly. “I don’t agree to your terms.” He stepped forward, and Nan Feng and Fu Yao assumed fighting stances, preparing to draw their weapons. San Lang tsked. “So aggressive!”

Nan Feng growled; he drew an arrow and notched it in a single, practiced motion. Fu Yao drew his silver sword with a sound that rang throughout the cottage, and its sharp edge seemed to glow in the firelight. Before Xie Lian could process what was happening, San Lang rushed forward. With swift, precise movements, he disarmed both hunters. The sword and bow both fell to the floor with dull thumps.

In a flash, San Lang grabbed Nan Feng’s arm and wrenched it behind his back. Nan Feng lifted his other arm to deliver a blow, but San Lang caught his wrist mid-strike and pinned both of his arms behind his back. Holding him in place with a single hand, San Lang turned to Fu Yao, who had grabbed his sword again.

Fu Yao pointed his blade at San Lang, both hands clenched on its hilt. His cold eyes were deadly. San Lang laughed at him arrogantly. “That didn’t work the first time, did it? You’re a slow learner.”

Fu Yao hissed, gritting his teeth, and charged forward. San Lang sidestepped, the smile never leaving his face, and aimed for the weak point in Fu Yao’s grip before he could even react. The sword flew out of Fu Yao’s hands, and he found himself restrained by San Lang’s firm grasp on his wrists.

“Let me go!” he cried, but San Lang ignored him as he started dragging both men towards the door. It appeared that he was barely exerting much strength, but he must have been to be capable of holding two fully-trained hunters hostage. A chill ran down Xie Lian’s spine as he thought about San Lang’s power.

The snarling cat and dog fought against San Lang every step of the way, snapping and protesting and digging in their heels, but it was all in vain. They could not fight off San Lang’s iron grip. Perhaps Xie Lian imagined it, confused by the chaos unfolding, but he thought that he saw the slight shimmer of illusion magic on Nan Feng’s ear…

Neatly, San Lang pushed down on the door handle with Fu Yao’s hands, then forced him to pull the door open.

“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!” Nan Feng roared. San Lang smiled sweetly, then shoved them both outside and shut the door. He flipped the recently-fixed latch closed and swivelled on his heel, ignoring the muffled sounds of Fu Yao and Nan Feng shouting and pounding on the door. Pretending like the two hunters didn’t exist, San Lang knelt in front of Xie Lian and looked up at him with a smile, but he couldn't hide the heart-aching worry in his eyes.

“I got rid of the pests,” he said.

“Ah, San Lang…” Xie Lian’s voice sounded odd because of his pinched nose. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “You didn’t have to do that.” The last thing he wanted to do was invoke the wrath of a guild, let alone two.

San Lang’s eyes flickered to his injured nose. “They’re useless trash.” He spoke rather childishly, as if he hadn’t just incapacitated two experienced hunters with his bare hands.

“Oh, San Lang…” Xie Lian sighed and smiled. He thought about dropping the bloody handkerchief so that he could tuck San Lang’s hair behind his ear, but then realized that San Lang probably wouldn’t want him to touch him with his dirty hands.